


I Want You (from somewhere within)

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Aaron POV, Boxing, Happy Ending, M/M, Mentions of past abuse, Non-Linear Narrative, Post-Canon, introspective Aaron, shirtless Matt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:27:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24198955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: This is a story of Aaron's growth. That, and how Matt lured him in with boxing.
Relationships: Matt Boyd/Aaron Minyard
Comments: 21
Kudos: 79





	I Want You (from somewhere within)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [djhedy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/djhedy/gifts).



> Hello, so @djhedy said aatt, so aatt it is. 
> 
> I've never written a rarepair before. Writing Aaron meant a lot to me, because he has dimensions that no one really bothers to see. Let me know how you like it!
> 
> (There are brief mentions of abuse wrt to Tilda, take care while reading.)
> 
> Title from Oceans by Seafret.
> 
> As always, leave your comments and come say hi to me on [Tumblr](https://alex-wh0.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_wh0).

“When did you know?” Matt whispered into the room, the darkness swallowing up his words.

He felt a hand brush across his cheek, thumb running along his cheekbone softly.

“I think it was a long, long time ago.”

*

_“Do you want to learn or not?”_

_“Fuck you,” Aaron snarled. “I want to.”_

_“Then stop being a wuss.”_

_Aaron tried channelling his anger to his fists and lashed out, but his punches merely glanced off the wall of muscle in front of him._

_“Aaron, Aaron, look at me.” His voice was gentler than usual. Aaron wanted to cry._

_“Fuck off, Matt,” he said, charging out of the gym, tears blurring his vision, shame coursing hot and heavy through his body._

*

Aaron Minyard had dreams. He had so many dreams that it was a miracle that he had space to fit all of them inside himself.

He had been dreaming since the time he was six years old, hidden inside a cupboard.

_At first it was the need to escape._

He thought of sailing out of the windows of his house, on a magic carpet, on enchanted chairs. He dreamed of kind-eyed wizards who would storm into the house and take him away to places that he only saw on television, those that existed only in books that his teacher read out in class. He longed and longed for escape.

As he grew up, he wanted to build a tree house and live in it forever. His mother screamed at him when he fell off the tree, and refused to bandage his cut. He closed his eyes and thought of the ways he could run away forever, from everything that was familiar and horrid. He mapped out ways he could leave the house – through the front door, through his window, through the back door – and run and run till his legs shook and he could go on no more.

Much later, he discovered that he could escape from the confines of his room. He drifted on magic carpets and enchanted chairs. He drifted, swooped, jumped and fell.

Escape felt wonderful. The crash was entirely another story.

 _Then it was the need for family_.

Aaron hated his mother. Aaron loved his mother. Aaron knew no one else.

Aaron longed for someone who could tell him that he was okay. For someone who saw past the bitter front he put up, past the bitter fight that dogged his steps.

His family came in the form of a brother that ripped away everything Aaron had.

He swung between gratitude and vicious hatred.

 _Sometimes, it was an acute need to become something_.

One time Aaron hit his head on the corner of the table when his mother slapped him, and bled. When he had cried, Tilda had dismissed him with a wave, saying doctors were too expensive and that the bleeding will stop.

The bleeding stopped, eventually. He, on the other hand, never did.

He went through gruelling Exy practice sessions during the day; at night he bent over his books, took notes, and studied, the need to prove something raging through him, spurring him on.

He sometimes wished his mother was alive, so that he could tell her that he was going to be a doctor. “Look, ma, I’m expensive, too,” he’d say, flaunting every scar he’d gotten in her face.

He burned.

 _Sometimes, it was the need to be loved_.

Aaron was taught to not want things he could never have. Like the shiny new pens his classmate had. Like the fancy cake the kids down the block cut for their birthdays.

Like his mother’s attention.

And now, like the prettiest girl he’d ever set his eyes on in his biology class. It took him days, weeks, months before he realised that he could have whatever he wanted. He could _try_.

So, one day, heart in throat, he spoke to her. And almost died when she smiled down at him.

*

“How are you feeling?”

Aaron scowled at him from the couch. “I’m fine.”

“I knew Neil will rub off on you sooner or later,” Matt said, lowering himself onto the couch next to him.

“Fuck off, Matt,” he griped, turning his attention back to the television.

“No,” Matt replied cheerfully, leaning across him to get the remote, and Aaron froze at the proximity.

He cleared his throat and tried to protest when Matt landed on an Exy channel.

“Hey, Aaron.”

“Yes?”

Matt took his hands into his own, gently brushing his thumb across his red knuckles. “Does it hurt?”

Aaron scoffed, desperately trying to keep down the roiling feeling pushing up his gut.

“No,” he pulled his hands back, and scowled at Matt. “I’m going to see Katelyn.”

Matt drew back, and turned his attention back to the TV. “Cool, man.”

Aaron ran.

*

Aaron dreamed at night when sleep was an uninterrupted blessing. There was usually screaming, black pits of despair that he had long since learned to dodge, his mother’s voice yelling at him to keep his crying down.

Sometimes his dreams were soft. He dreamed of soft blankets and safe cocoons that he could fold himself in, hidden away from everything that had the potential to hurt him.

Sometimes, Katelyn was in his dreams – her skin warm against his. He pulled her to his chest, pushing the swinging curtain of her hair out of the way and nuzzled into the nape of her neck.

Of late, he dreamed of running his hands across a broad chest, solid and unmoving against his roving hands. He dreamed of brown eyes and a full, luscious mouth that he wanted to put against his.

He woke up panting, heart going a mile a minute.

*

_“Never tuck your thumbs in, relax your fist, angle your elbow this way,” Matt instructed from behind him, and it took everything he had to not sag against him._

_One day, after Neil – Neil – had intervened between him and a bunch of assholes, Aaron spent a whole day in his room, torn between anger and bewilderment. The act of someone standing up for him was so foreign that he had no idea how to process it._

_He had confronted Neil with a single why and Neil had looked at him like he was stupid to even ask._

_After days of stewing, he had asked Matt to teach him to fend for himself._

_Matt had been delighted._

_“Your foot needs to stay like this,” Matt said, now, adjusting his heel. Even kneeling on the ground, his head came up to Aaron’s chest, and he suddenly felt self-conscious._

_“Cool,” he cleared his throat, and tried not to look into Matt’s eyes._

_“Relax, will you?” Matt said, smoothing his hands over Aaron’s shoulders, and he felt goosebumps erupt across his arms._

_He shook his shoulders to dislodge his arms and Matt got up, laughing._

*

Aaron’s browser history after every session of boxing:

-What does it mean to be gay?

-Chris Hemsworth shirtless

-What is the Kinsey scale?

-The beginner’s guide to boxing stance

-Top 10 med schools in USA

-Am I gay?

-Bisexuality

*

“Aaron.”

“Yeah.”

“We are going to med school, right?”

“Of course we are,” Aaron said, looking at Katelyn from across the couch. “Why?”

She stared down at her books, and he moved closer, pulling her into his lap, “What is it?”

“I don’t know if I can do this anymore,” she whispered into his neck.

“Kate, your grades are higher than I’ve ever been in life,” he said, kissing her cheek. “You can do this.”

Katelyn got off his lap and walked over to the window. “Do you ever wonder about us?”

“Us?”

“Us.”

“What do you mean?”

“Where do you see us in five years, Aaron? In ten? What do you want out of this?” she said, gesturing to the space between them.

Aaron blinked at her. “What do you mean?” he repeated, finding himself at a loss of words.

“I asked you a question, Aaron.”

They were seated in his dorm room, now empty save for him and Nicky. Matt had graduated the year before, leaving behind his coursebooks and posters still stuck to the wall above Aaron’s bunk bed.

Now, Aaron snapped his attention back to her. “I want whatever you want, Kate. Whatever you will give me,” he said, hoping to hell and back that he sounded placating and not condescending.

“That’s fine, but what do _you_ want, Aaron?”

And Aaron was suddenly plunged into vicious memories of his childhood – he was curled up in a corner of his bedroom, trying to drown out his mother’s voice tearing through the house, a chorus of “ _what do you want, goddamnit, what do you want?”_

He was curled up in the bathroom of a house in Columbia, shivers wracking his small frame, raging at his brother to let him out, only to have his Andrew ask him, voice quiet, “ _What do you want, Aaron?_ ”

“I want to love you for as long as you want me to Kate.”

She stepped closer to him. “I’m not sure what I want anymore, Aaron,” she said, tears already in free fall, and Aaron felt a familiar feeling of dread well up inside him.

Why was it that when he hurt, he was always alone?

*

_“Are you ever going to land a punch on me,” Matt mocked, and Aaron lashed out, only to be tackled to the ground._

_Matt loomed over him, his broad shoulders covering him fully. He pinned both of Aaron’s hands over his head with a single fist. Years of trauma suggested that Aaron should feel trapped, but all he felt in that moment was the overwhelming feeling of safety._

_“Are we going to stay like this?” Matt asked, smiling down at him._

_Aaron closed his eyes against the feeling rising through his body – from the tips of his toes, up his shuddering thighs, across his hips, his stomach, chest and arms._

_“I wouldn’t mind,” he rasped out, and heard Matt’s breath hitch, and opened his eyes in horror._

_“I mean,” he cleared his throat, “get off me, you giant,” and made to push Matt off of him._

_It was an exercise in futility._

_Matt smiled shyly to himself before letting his arms free._

_Aaron would remember that image till the day he died._

*

“Nicky, I wanted to ask you something.”

Nicky looked up from his assignment, frowning. “What is it?”

They were in the library, going through a mountain of assignments. Whoever said final year was a breeze was a liar, Aaron thought to himself, vigorously highlighting passages from a textbook.

“Promise not to make a big deal out of it?”

Nicky’s eyes lit up. _Not a good sign_.

“Aaron!”

He groaned.

“Forget it.”

“No, no. Tell me. I’m sorry, I’ll keep it down,” Nicky said, miming closing a zip over his lips.

“Um.”

“Is this about Katelyn? Are you doing okay?”

Aaron rolled his eyes. He was _not_ okay. He didn’t know if he would ever be.

“No. I mean, yes. I mean, this isn’t about her.”

“Okay?” Nicky dragged out, every syllable screaming confusion.

Aaron took a deep breath. “I wanted to apologise.”

Nicky’s eyes widened. “What for, Aaron?”

“For all the times I sounded like a homophobic asshole. I know you act like it doesn’t affect you, but I’m sorry. I am learning.”

He looked up, eyes troubled, to find Nicky watching him with a shrewd look that made him feel exposed.

“What?” he said, tone defensive.

“What brought this on?” Nicky asked.

Aaron stumbled, not anticipating this reaction.

“Well?”

“I don’t know, I’m introspecting,” he shrugged.

Nicky still held his gaze and leaned back, “Sounds fake but okay.”

When Aaron fixed him with a murderous stare, he laughed. “I’m kidding, jesus,” and then his voice softened, “You don’t have to apologise, Aaron. It’s okay.”

Aaron shook his head stubbornly, “It’s not okay. You’ve done so much. The least I could do is not be a pain.”

Nicky put his hand over Aaron’s wrist, so gentle, that Aaron felt tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. “Don’t beat yourself up, Aaron. I forgive you.”

Aaron nodded, momentarily lost for words.

“So,” Nicky cleared his throat obnoxiously, “who’s the hunk you’ve been ogling then?”

Aaron gaped at him, “WHAT?”

Nicky smirked then, “Other than Chris Hemsworth, that is.”

“NO.”

“We share a laptop, Aaron,” he laughed, “There’s an option to clear history or did you not know that?”

Aaron had no words.

“Stop gaping at me. I’m here if you want to talk,” Nicky said, pulling four books toward him at once. “And you know that I love you, right? I feel like I never tell you and Andrew that,” he muttered to himself with a frown.

Aaron still had no words.

*

“I’m serious.”

“I am too.”

Matt leaned up on one elbow to look at him, a frown marring his forehead. “What do you mean?”

Aaron reached up and smoothed his brow with the tip of his forefinger. Matt caught it in his hand and kissed it, watching Aaron flush. He bent down to kiss his cheek, feeling it burn beneath his lips.

“You’re adorable.”

“I am NOT,” Aaron protested hotly, trying to frown, but it was a hopeless action against the onslaught that was Matt Boyd.

“Very, very adorable,” he said, punctuating every word with a kiss and Aaron shivered. “Tell me.”

“No.”

“Aaron.”

“You know my name. Congratulations,” he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

Matt huffed a laugh. “Do you not want to tell me?”

“Are you asking me to tell you since when I’ve liked you?” Aaron asked, his features arranged in an expression of faux incredulity.

“Yes, Aaron.”

“Well, I’m not telling you.”

Matt pouted and Aaron pushed him on his back and kissed him deep and slow. Matt’s fingers tangled in his hair and he pulled him closer.

“Never telling you,” he whispered against Matt’s lips, flicking his tongue out to lick his lips, and felt Matt shiver.

“You’re cruel, Minyard.”

Aaron smiled, “I know.”

*

“Hello.”

“Mm.”

“Wake up, you tiny fucker, it’s like 10am.”

“ ’M not tiny,” Aaron yawned, mushing his face into the pillow. “Don’t you have practice or something? You’re a fucking pro athlete now.”

Matt laughed, and Aaron was suddenly hit with how much he missed hearing that.

“Fuck.”

“What?”

“Nothing, I have classes.”

“Aaron, you’re in your final year. You barely have a lecture a day.”

“Shut up. There are a shit ton of applications that I have to go through.”

He heard Matt shuffle, and then, “Are you still applying to Chicago?”

Aaron didn’t know. Aaron didn’t know anything.

“Yeah,” he said, voice cracking.

“Listen. I’m sorry about Katelyn, man.”

Aaron sat up straight now. “Who told you?”

“Is that important now?”

“Fuck you, Matt. Honestly, fuck you.”

He hung up and threw the phone across the room, and heard the _crunch_ of a broken screen.

When he had the strength to turn it back on a whole day later, there was a single text from Matt. All it said was: _There’s a punching bag down at the gym. Use it well._

*

_“You’re getting better.”_

_“Fuck off, Matt,” Aaron, laughed, ducking and then feinting to his right._

_They took a break for water and Aaron sat down, muscles screaming from the exertion. He watched as Matt pulled the hem of his shirt and used it to wipe his face._

_“You’re gross,” he said, making a face, and Matt looked at him, puzzled._

_“What?”_

_“Nothing,” he said, trying to not look at the rippling muscles. Fuck._

_“One more round? I have to go meet Dan after this.”_

_“Sure,” Aaron said, guiltily thinking about his girlfriend, who was somewhere on the campus having fun, without him. “One more round. One day, I’ll have your ass, Boyd.”_

_Matt smirked, and Aaron’s cheeks heated._

_“Keep trying, Minyard.”_

*

“You’ll be okay.” It was a statement, not a question.

Aaron looked at his twin, “I will. You will be too.”

Andrew nodded once, and then once more. “Call me if there’s anything you need.”

When Aaron looked at him dubiously, he said, “I mean it, Aaron.”

Sessions with Bee had paid off in more ways than one. They now tolerated each other. Aaron knew, deep down, that Andrew would do anything to keep him safe. It was an unsettling thought, guaranteed to leave him with broken bones if said out loud.

“Take care, Andrew.”

“Tell, Boyd I’ll have his dick in a box if he hurts you.”

Aaron raised an eyebrow, and laughed, “I’m not dating him, Andrew. Calm down.”

It was Andrew’s turn to raise a single incredulous eyebrow, “You are an idiot.”

Aaron frowned. “Go. I don’t want to get yelled at by Neil.”

Andrew smirked and turned around, giving him a wry, two-fingered salute.

*

Aaron Minyard had dreams. They were numerous, they were loud, some of them were pleasant, some of them were attainable.

“You are allowed to want for things,” his therapist said.

“You deserve better,” Katelyn had said, through a veil of tears.

“You deserve only the best,” Matt had said one night, utterly and thoroughly sloshed after a night out at Eden’s. “The best.”

His dreams shifted, changed forms, became bolder, went higher – a chimera spitting fire.

_Sometimes, it was the need to love the same way he was loved._

Aaron gave, sometimes more than what he was allowed to take.

He loved quietly, because being too loud had consequences, his mother had warned him once.

Aaron had a fire burning quietly inside him, and he barely knew what to do with it.

*

“I got in.”

“Fuck, really? Congratulations, Aaron, you tiny fucker. I knew you’d do it!”

Aaron laughed, “Stop calling me a tiny fucker. Fucking giant.”

He could _hear_ Matt’s grin. “Are you happy,” he asked, voice quiet.

“I am,” Aaron said, shocked to realise that it wasn’t a lie. He _was_ happy.

“I know you must have pictured something different, but this is good too, right?”

“Matt.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s better than what I pictured, really.”

“Okay. Good. That’s good.”

“Won’t you ask me where I got into?”

“I’m waiting for you to tell me.”

“You’re useless,” Aaron grinned, and heard Matt huff.

“Shut up. Tell me.”

Aaron paused. “Chicago.”

Matt gasped so loud that Aaron felt his lips curve into a smile without his permission.

*

_“ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”_

_Matt turned around, boxing shorts hanging low off his hips, showing off his sculpted abs and a dark trail of hair going down from his navel. It was really, really unfair._

_“It’s hot,” he shrugged, downing a bottle a bottle of water. “You should take off your shirt too. It’s going to be sweaty.”_

_“I know,” Aaron said, hating the way his voice went high pitched, of its own accord. He stared at Matt’s back in horror, looking at the muscles flex as he bent down to retrieve his gloves._

_“Listen, Matt. Um-”_

_Matt turned, concern etched on his face. “What happened?”_

_Aaron stood rooted to the spot._

_“Aaron, are you okay?”_

_Aaron was not okay._

_“I just realised that I have to do something.”_

_Matt’s brows furrowed. “But it’s boxing time.”_

_Aaron knew what that meant. Their sessions were sacred, sacrosanct spaces of time that were too important to both of them to let anything else inside._

_“I know,” he stammered, and backed away, hurriedly grabbing his bag._

_“Aaron.”_

_“Yeah?” He refused to turn and look at Matt, lest he do something stupid, like climb him like a tree._

_“Will you tell me what’s going on?” Matt said, voice deceptively quiet._

_Aaron knew from months of staying with Matt that his tone meant that he was hurt._

_“I’m sorry, Matt. I’ll make it up to you later okay?” And he had run out._

_It was after four days of cajoling and getting croissants for breakfast that Matt had deigned to look him in the eye. It was a solid week later that Matt had forgiven him._

_It was one of the longest weeks Aaron had to endure._

*

“Move in with me.”

“What? No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“What do you mean, move in with me?”

“Now you’re just repeating what I’m saying.”

“Technically, no.”

“Aaron.”

“Matt.”

Matt sighed, and Aaron hid a smirk behind his hand even though he knew Matt won’t be able to see him. There was a month left at Palmetto University, and everyone was going a little haywire. There was a lot of shouting down the corridors of Fox Tower and Aaron locked himself up in his room.

“Why won’t you?”

“I have college housing. And I won’t be able to pay you any rent for a while.”

“That doesn’t matter.”

“Don’t SAY that,” Aaron almost yelled, “I can’t do that to you. I won’t do that to you.”

“Aaron,” Matt’s voice was soft. Like when he woke Aaron up on Saturday mornings, with coffee. Always with coffee. Like when he shut Aaron’s books every time he fell asleep on them, and carried him back to his bed. Like when he comforted Aaron every time his world splintered around him.

“It’s a big apartment, Aaron,” he said, voice subdued. “What am I to do with all this space, then, hmm?”

“Dan’s there anyway. What do you need me for?” Aaron couldn’t help keep the sulky tone out of his voice.

Matt went quiet.

“Matt?”

“We aren’t together. We,” he stopped to inhale slowly, “We wanted different things, I suppose.”

Aaron felt something exhilarating unfurl in his chest, filling his lungs, expanding, expanding and _expanding_.

“Aaron?”

*

Aaron kissed his chest, nuzzling his face between his pecs.

“Aaron,” Matt gasped his name with a reverence that made Aaron look at him with undisguised wonder in his eyes.

He smirked and licked his nipples, slowly sucking on them till Matt went incoherent with need. He kissed his abs next, stroking them with a finger.

“Aaron,” Matt moaned, and he felt his stomach clench at the sound. He surged up to kiss him senseless, and relished the feel of Matt’s arms around his waist.

“Let me kiss you,” Aaron mumbled, trailing a hand down his stomach and felt Matt gasp against his neck.

“Fuck, yes, baby.”

Aaron shivered, and moaned a second later when Matt sucked a mark into the sensitive skin behind his ear.

Aaron turned to look at him, wondering if it would ever stop feeling like _this_ – like all of dreams had come true in one single fell swoop.

He inched closer to Matt, wanting to leave no space between them.

*

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“You were so busy, I didn’t know how to bring it up,” Matt hedged, and Aaron felt anger flare hot and unbridled.

“Don’t put this on me, Matt.”

“I am not.”

“You ARE,” he yelled, wanting to throw his phone at something, anything.

“Aaron,” Matt said, his tone dangerous and soft, and Aaron went still. He had been at the receiving end of that tone very few times, and it never failed to send a frisson of fear and pleasure and want up his spine.

“Yes?” he stuttered.

“What exactly is the problem here?”

Aaron paused. “I want this too much,” he said, turning to face the wall, forgetting for a moment that Matt wouldn’t be able to see him anyway, forgetting for a moment that despite the distance, despite the barrier of a phone call, despite being turned to the wall, he absolutely had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, nowhere to go.

“Want what too much?” Matt replied after a pause, voice careful and controlled.

“This. Us,” Aaron’s voice broke, and he couldn’t keep it in anymore. He was a broken, broken thing and he had never known what it was to feel whole.

“You can have anything you want, baby,” Matt said, voice even, firm and filled with promise.

*

“I can’t believe it’s been six years and I still don’t know.”

“Quit whining, Matt,” Aaron curled into his side, sated in a way he was only after a round of sex.

Matt pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his temple where his hair had begun to curl. Aaron leaned into the touch, wanting more, always wanting more.

“It’s not fair that you know and I don’t,” he frowned, lips pouting, making Aaron want to kiss it off.

“I can’t help it that you’re that transparent, Boyd,” he drawled, relishing the way Matt pouted even more.

To Aaron’s utter delight, after they’d moved in, Matt had confessed to him that he’d had a thing for him since the day he had stumbled into their dorm piss drunk, mumbling about how the human body has 206 bones.

“You looked so cute, rambling away. I had no choice, none at all,” he had told an incredulous Aaron who had laughed, and denied that such a thing had happened at all.

Aaron had never let him live it down.

*

Nicky had helped Aaron move his things into Matt’s apartment.

Aaron had refused to let Matt come down to Palmetto, not wanting to disrupt his schedule for him.

“No, you will not. Nicky will help me. And anyway, I don’t have much.”

It was a barefaced lie. Aaron was a hoarder. Matt knew it. He knew it. Nicky did NOT know.

“Aaron why the fuck do you have nine empty notebooks. I’m going to throw these out.”

Aaron had let out a screech he was not proud of, “Throw out something and I will break your thumbs, Nicky.”

“Damn, and I thought Andrew was the violent one.”

Aaron had scoffed and proceeded to hide everything from Nicky’s sight, furiously throwing everything haphazardly into boxes.

Matt was home to receive them.

“Thought you’d never reach here,” he mumbled into the crook of Aaron’s neck, ignoring the fact that Aaron had turned a fiery shade of red.

“Put me down, Matt. NOW.”

Matt only held on tighter, as though Aaron would disappear if he let him go. Nicky conveniently wandered off to look around the rest of the apartment, and Matt took the opportunity to hoist Aaron higher, making him wrap his legs around his waist.

Aaron refused to meet his eyes.

“Did you miss me, baby?” Matt murmured against his cheek and Aaron wanted to hide his face.

“Stop calling me that,” he whined and Matt only hummed in response.

“I will if you really want me to. Do you?”

Aaron glared at him. “No. Now, put me down before Nicky comes.”

“Fine,” he huffed a laugh and let Aaron down, who felt strangely bereft.

Matt eyed the boxes near the door and raised both his eyebrows, “I thought you said you didn’t have much.”

Aaron shifted from one foot to the other, “That’s not much, Matt.”

“Sure. There are only like 14 boxes in there,” he said, trying to stifle a laugh.

Aaron glowered at him.

After Nicky left, Matt proceeded to kiss him senseless, and Aaron pulled him closer and closer till they had nothing between them.

“Do you really want me here?” he asked, doubts burrowing into his voice.

Matt kissed him harder. “I’ve never wanted something more,” he breathed against his ear, and Aaron melted.

*

“I’m not making you breakfast till you tell me,” Matt threatened, and Aaron laughed.

“Seriously?”

“Seriously. No pancakes for monsieur.”

“But I love pancakes,” he said, lips dipping downward in a passable imitation of a wounded puppy.

“No, no, no, don’t pull that face at me. I’m trying to be mad at you,” Matt yelled and all but ran from the room.

Aaron stretched, feeling his spine pop, satisfaction seeping heavy and warm through him. He sat up on his – _their_ – bed and looked around the room.

If one day, you had told a 12-year-old Aaron Minyard that years and years later, he would be given the room to heal and grow, he would have slanted an unimpressed look and asked you to give the drugs a break.

But here he was now, better, softer, sweeter than he would like to admit. He turned, now, burrowing deeper into the mattress, getting ready to sleep, when Matt’s voice came floating up, “The pancakes aren’t going to make themselves, you know?”

He grinned quietly in his pillow.

“I’m coming, you loser,” he yelled back, blindly slipping on his boxers and a t-shirt that fell to his knees. “Damn, it looks like a dress on me,” he grumbled, looking into the mirror. The look on Matt’s face every time he put on one of his shirts was worth it though.

“I hate the pancakes I make,” he said, padding into the kitchen, silently smirking at a very annoyed Matt sitting at the table, pretending to look at his phone.

“Matt,” he said, smooshing his face on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around his waist. He pressed a kiss to Matt’s neck and nipped at the sensitive skin and heard Matt grumble.

“What is it, Matty?” he laughed.

“Do you not remember what I’ve been asking you?” Matt turned to him with a frown, and Aaron took a step back.

“Shit, you’re serious.”

“Wow, my boyfriend is so sharp.”

Aaron shivered at the use of the term _boyfriend_ ; it never failed to send a forbidden thrill of happiness through him. _Boyfriend_.

“Fine, you big baby. FINE.”

Matt’s eyes lit up. “Really? You’ll tell me?”

“I meant I’ll make the pancakes,” he said, watching with amusement as Matt went back to pouting.

“Stop pouting and look at me,” he said, climbing onto Matt’s lap, cradling his face between his hands. Matt still wouldn’t look at him.

“Matt. Look at me.”

“Yeah,” Matt whispered, and then frowned, “I mean. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I won’t ask you if you feel like you don’t want to tell me. I understand,” he spoke, tone gentle, and Aaron wanted to cry.

“Stop being so good to me.”

“Never, Aaron.”

Aaron controlled the part of him that wanted to burst into tears and looked at Matt.

“It was the boxing lessons.”

Matt blinked. “What?” and then, “Really?”

Aaron nodded.

“But you were shit at boxing.”

“HEY.”

Matt laughed. Aaron wanted to hear the sound of it every single day for as long as he was alive.

“Wait.”

“What?”

“Remember one time, you cut our session short? What happened,” Matt asked, frowning at him, and Aaron felt his face burn.

“Aaron?”

“What?” he mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of Matt’s neck.

“Tell me.”

“You were fucking shirtless, you heathen.”

Matt laughed, louder this time, the sound curling around Aaron, wrapping him safe.

It was a good feeling – to know that he was allowed to want, and to get what he wanted.


End file.
